Terrible
by Twelvepercent
Summary: Anyone can sometimes be absolutely terrible. Even that football-headed little saint.


**So this is a bit dark and I'm sorry. I plan to write more chapters but I've been so busy with work I'm not sure it will happen soon. **

Constantly, she was in my head. Since that hot summers' day when I came to realize her feelings, desires, and just plain sickening obsession to yours truly. I would have never guessed that the same would happen to me. I've caught the same sickening obsession for her as if it were an illness, an incurable disease.

Whenever we were near I'd watch her. Out of the corner of my eye, I'd watch her intently. Now it was as if I never existed. Before she was constantly around me, bullying me. Now she just ignored me. Despite this, the bullying never ended. Now things were different. She still bullied me but she just had a more indirect approach to making me miserable.

A few months ago she confessed her feelings for me and I shot her down. I'm aware of how much it hurt her. I could tell she was biting her cheek to keep from crying. I noticed how her fingernails were burrowing into the skin of her arm. She was trying not to cry and she couldn't hide her efforts to keep her tears and emotions at bay. I've always known she was special. With her confession, the warm and fuzzy center I had only speculated about had been fully exposed to me. She is a complicated creature I can't help but think about. This constant curiosity about her has me laying in bed and losing sleep.

Despite my new obsession, I can't be with her. After all these years it's selfish of her to not accept my decision. I do care about her, but not like she would like. As if to retaliate, she has not only stopped talking to me but she has stopped eating. I've also noticed her bruises. They are scars I'm sure she is self inducing. She's trying to guilt-trip me into being something I'm not. She is selfishly manipulating my good nature to find her own damn happiness while disregarding my feelings entirely. She's still the mean bully from my younger childhood that finds joy in my torment.

Sitting tables away from her, I watched her shrinking figure slumped next to Phoebe's. The two usually ate lunch together. Helga's meal went untouched except for a few missing bites of the potato salad. The anger I felt, watching her physical and mental decay rose up in me. She was only doing this to change my mind. How could she be so deceptive and selfish?

I've had enough of it. I found the resolve to stand up to her and her indirect bullying. I'm tired of her torment that is not only hurting me but herself as well. As I walked towards their table I saw Phoebe say something trivial with a smile that hid her own concerns. She caught sight of me and gently tapped Helga's arm as some kind of warning. I quickly approached the table. With much force I slapped my hands on the table making direct eye contact with the girl who I just can't seem to stop thinking about.

"You need to stop this bull." I felt my body trembling. I spoke in a low growl so only she, Phoebe, and myself could hear. "I know what you are trying to do here and it needs to stop. I've noticed that you've stopped eating and you are hurting yourself. What you are doing to yourself won't make me want you like you want me." The words flew from my mouth like ninja stars, "It's evil and manipulative the way you are trying to change my feelings for you."

In that moment, when I looked into her terrified blue eyes, eyes that were an exotic ocean blue sunken in deep gray circles, I realized I was so wrong. The bruises on her arms, the cigarette burns, and her bones that protruded from her malnourished little body were not caused by Helga. They were caused by something way worse. I realized it had nothing to do with me at all. It was her father, Big Bob.

Before either of us had a chance to react, a fist had collied with my cheek. Helga and I both looked at Phoebe with wide eyes. The petite Japanese-American girl breathed heavily with a scowl. "You are just," tears began to collect in her eyes and she held her shaking fist in the air, "you are just terrible, Arnold!"

Immediately, Helga ran away from the table dodging curious onlookers and confused classmates. Phoebe refused to make eye contact with me as she gathered her and Helga's things.

I slumped in a cafeteria chair lost in my own thoughts, ignoring the questions from other students. Phoebe didn't leave before leaving me a look that could only be described as both menacing and disappointed. I was ashamed of myself, to say the least. I verbally ripped apart the one person on this earth who needed me the most. An incredible girl who won't leave my thoughts.

**Sorry that this one isn't very lengthy. I plan to write more. **

**-Twelvepercent :D**


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